Thursday, June 6, 2013

Story telling

Midway through the story
we pause.
Try and rewind but no.
The story stops for certain.
What continuation there is
is simply what passes as time.

Segments. Phrases.
Blobs of words. Appear. Die. Live.
It's hard to say nowadays.

Letting words fall where they may.
Silence is my better friend.
All the shouting and screaming that went on
might as well have been in vain as the thoughts that raced before them.
Choosing the non-word seems sensible. Not even the visual,
not the sleep, not the sound. What remains, is. But what is it?

What does silence feel like?
What does it actually say?